


Underneath the Oak Tree

by MeriwetherLeww



Category: Historical RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:53:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriwetherLeww/pseuds/MeriwetherLeww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas was the kind of man with elegant figure and graceful stance, except when he was tripping down the stairs.  James was a quiet man who shied away from public speaking, though it's hard to stay out of the attention of others when your having coughing fits in the middle of meetings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath the Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [all you bitches on instagram love yall](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=all+you+bitches+on+instagram+love+yall).



> I am not saying this is historically accurate (besides the "Jefferson and Madison being super homo for each other," which, let's be honest, that basically happened) or well written by any means. This is just something I threw together in my spare time and posted for others to (possibly) enjoy. So. . . enjoy!

Thomas never handled embarrassment well. He was supposed to be a man of strong will, elegance, and wit. Tripping over things (though rare, very embarrassing) and doing things that could be considered “clumsy” and “foolish” caused him to curse his own name as if damning a foe to Hell. He could do something particularly stupid inside the walls of his own house and curse at himself for being such an "ignorant, idiotic dunce" (among other things).  While in France, he attempted to jump an iron fence to impress a girl he had taken a fancy to; he tripped over it and dislocated his wrist.  He went bright red with embarrassment and refused to speak of the account with anyone.  Another time, after embarrassing himself in front of yet another girl, he suffered a severe migraine that lasted two days. He did not take kindly to publicly embarrassing himself, but luckily for him it happened rarely. 

So why was it different when he was with James?

It was after one particular cabinet meeting (in which Thomas was _positive_ military aid should be sent to France) when he came storming out of the building with such a dramatic and angry step that he tripped over his own feet and down the stairs, hitting his face against the sidewalk.  He was seconds away from cursing himself out when he heard a laugh coming from the top of the steps; he flipped over to see none other than James Madison standing in the doorway, bent over and laughing his ass off.

His laughing fit quickly turned into a coughing one; he put a hand curled into a fist up to his mouth and took the next few moments to hunch over and cough himself out of his laughing stage.  It took some time, but he was finally able to flail down and make his best attempt to help the flustered Jefferson up, though it's no easy task for a man standing only 5'4" to help get a man that has nearly another foot on him up to his full height, especially when the shorter was still shaking from how hard he had been laughing just moments before.  "I would have helped you sooner," he had promised through laughing breaths, "but I've never seen a six foot tall man flail down the stairs like that."

And instead of getting mad and cursing and quickly hobbling away, the left side of his face bruised and hands scraped up, he laughed - he threw his head back and gave a big, loud laugh alongside James. He had never done it before that day and didn’t understand what urged him to do it, but he let out a big cackle at the thought of watching himself go flying down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, smacking his face against the ground.  "I can't believe I allowed myself the embarrassment," he muttered, a smile still plastered on his face.  "Why don't you come with me, James?  I'd love to be able to talk with you a bit more after you calm yourself down."

James wasn't much of a conversation starter - or much of a conversationalist for that matter - so they walked in silence a few blocks as Thomas studied his facial features, staring a bit more intensely than he thought himself to be. The man was quite pale and seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes open. His breaths sometimes turned to wheezing and coughing fits, and it was evident he was not well. "What ails you, man?" he asked, taking his arm and gently guiding him off the sidewalk and across about half an acre to an oak tree, where Thomas helped ease James down in the shade, joining him against the tree.

"Just a bad cold," he coughed.  "I'll be over it within a few days.  You know me, always falling in and out of good health."  Despite the warmer temperatures and humidity in the air, he shivered and curled himself into a ball, clearing his throat and leaning against the tree.

"Here," Thomas offered, standing up and removing his coat.  "You seem to need it a great deal more than I."

"No, no," James insisted, shaking his head.  "I'll be fine.  Just a cold chill, that's all."  Despite the man's objections, Thomas laid the coat onto the shivering Madison, who wrapped it tightly around himself with a grateful nod. 

"I've been meaning to tell you," Jefferson continued, sitting back down and joining Madison against the tree, "I would love if you would come and visit some time.  It's been quite a while since you last stopped by.  I know your work - mine as well, don't get me wrong - is extremely important, but if you ever are passing through, don't be afraid to -"

He faded out when he heard a low, quiet rumbling coming from the direction of James. He slowly and quietly crept around to face him and saw that it appeared he had fallen asleep, head rested against a soft patch of grass, wrapped tightly in Thomas's coat. A smile graced Thomas's face as he returned to his spot against the tree, brushing some hair behind his ear with a sigh. The leaves rustled in the wind and people continued walking by across the grass, talking and chatting among themselves without a care in the world. 

He let his mind wander away from political affairs and issues, looking down at his scraped, raw hands and feeling the left side of his face.  He was often described as an elegant man of natural grace and not exactly the sort to lose his footing going down the stairs.  He enclosed his long, delicate fingers into a fist and laughed under his breath as to not awaken the sleeping Virginian politician to the left of him. 

He wondered why he hadn't laughed at himself before.  It felt good to just let go of your embarrassment, so why had he never tried to just laugh it off?  He promised himself that he'd try it more often.  He glanced over at James and knew that he _definitely_ wouldn't let him get away with cursing at himself for any mistake he made.  He'd force him to laugh, just like he did.

It was about two hours later when Jefferson opened his eyes.  When had he fallen asleep?  His head was even with James' chest when he awoke, curled in a fetal position.  He sat up with aching muscles and a sore jaw, but felt well-rested and like any toxins had been cleared from his system.  Long shadows were cast against the ground by an orange sun in the purple sky.  He reached over and shook James gently, just hard enough to wake him up.  He was still pale and shivering, but his breathing sounded less irritated and scratchy. A few hours napping outside in the fresh air sounded like it did him some good.  "Come on, James," Thomas helped him stand, letting him keep his coat on and grab his arm for balance as they walked.  "It's time you get yourself to bed."


End file.
